


Untitled Sebastian Drabble

by huntingmyths



Category: Glee
Genre: Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 16:16:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huntingmyths/pseuds/huntingmyths
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it's too much, but would you be able to do it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled Sebastian Drabble

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hideunspoken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hideunspoken/gifts).



Sebastian sat in the small dorm room, curled into a ball against the wall as he cried. It wasn’t the first time he’d done this, but it had been a while. He normally kept up a mask to keep his distance from everyone. The cold, snarky Sebastian was just a front he put up to protect himself from the pain he was feeling.

Ever since he was a child, he knew that he was different. The fact that he could speak fluent French and sometimes switched between that and English without meaning to made him a “freak” to the other kids. His parents were never home and when they were, there was nothing but fighting and yelling; arguments about the stupidest things.

Living in Paris had given him a reprieve from all the pain and hate, but that was also where the mask began. He had been called a stupid American when he cried because he was homesick and began feeling like no one cared for him. The feeling had always been there, but it was only recently that he had been thinking about it more and more until it was a constant thought.

Paris was where he began shaping his mask. No one could hurt him if he didn’t show weakness. He could be strong and stand up for himself even when he didn’t think he could.

Only, he did show weakness. Just not in the way anyone would have expected. He began cutting. It started off as just pressing a razor to his thigh — not enough to break the skin, but enough to create a red mark; enough to leave at least a little feeling, even if it was pain. He began scratching when he couldn’t find a sharp object that would work; his own nails doing the job just as well.

It soon became actual slices into his skin. Seeing the blood, feeling the sting gave him something to hang onto; knowing that he was actually still alive.

When he transferred to Dalton, it became less and less that he ended up cutting until it stopped entirely. The mask may have still been in place, but he didn’t feel the need to cut.

That was, until Dave Karofsky committed suicide. It wasn’t bad enough that there had to be blood, just a slight tinge of pain from time to time to remind him that he was alive; that he wasn’t numb.

Until one day that wasn’t enough. He happened to be at the Lima Bean, when he saw Blaine, Kurt, and some others from McKinley. He shouldn’t have been listening in, but what he heard completely broke him. To hear that everyone hated him and the names he was called just tore at him.

Completely ignoring his coffee, he returned to the school and his dorm. Once he was in there, he slid against the closed door and began scratching at himself trying to find something to keep him grounded. He grabbed a razor and tore at it, his fingers becoming a bloody mess until he was able to separate the metal from plastic. He began slicing at his skin, wanting nothing more than to end everything.

No one would miss him; everyone hated him. After the stupid slushy that had hit Blaine’s eyes by accident, even the Warblers — the boys who were supposed to be his friends — hated him.

“Sebastian?” He froze at the soft voice on the other side of the door. “Sebastian, are you in there?” Maybe if he just stayed silent, he wouldn’t have to deal with the person on the other side. He suddenly heard someone slide against the door before seeing fingers creep through under the small crack. “You’re not alone.” He remained silent as the fingers wiggled a bit. “I don’t know what you’re going through, but I know what it’s like.”

Sebastian stared at the fingers underneath the door before grimacing and touching them with his own fingers, careful that there was no blood on them. He could feel the fingers grip his as he whispered, “Thanks, Jeff.”


End file.
